Money Rock
by Sorceress Eiva
Summary: He waits and sweats and damns the rest of the world. Drabblish, with no particular plot. Written for theisraelproject107 as a late Christmas-fic.


A/N: Wow. KH fic. Never thought I'd see the day when I wrote something on KH that wasn't a) stupid and full of bad in-jokes, or b) old and badly-written and then uploaded onto this account. Oh well, the times are a-changin', I guess. Written for theisraelproject107 on deviantart (she's on here as well under the same username with some full-stops in them) - she's an absolutely amazing writer and I offered this to her as Christmas/new year -fic. Which then didn't get written for two weeks, because I'm lazy as hell and need a good slap across the face for motivation sometimes. Written to the P&SwG soundtrack for inspiration, if you're interested. Enjoy.

* * *

"You look like a fucking idiot. Take the glasses off."

It wasn't a particularly hot day, but it was muggy and the air sat heavy and uncomfortably around their shoulders. There was something about this climate that Roxas absolutely hated; he could deal with hot or cold or rain, but having to struggle breathing in air that was thicker than milk pissed him off to no end. He was waiting irritably, alternating between tapping fingers against his horribly sticky skin and trying to rub the dirt off his arms. The heat had given him a headache that was going to turn into an absolute _monster_ later, the entire area stank something rotten, and everyone that exited the club he was waiting outside of kept giving him filthy looks. And then his asshole of a partner came out, looking happy with himself in a way that rubbed the blonde up completely the wrong way.

"Why? I think they look pretty slick, all things considered."  
"_All things_," Roxas retorted, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Being that you already look a massive fool with your hair pulled back like that, it's too hot to be wearing leather, and bright orange rims just don't suit you."  
The other man crunched his way over to the motorbike that Roxas was leaning against, digging at his neck with his nails as he twisted his mouth into what he thought was a hurt expression. "Don't say that. They're good glasses, what does it matter if they don't suit me? Picked 'em up real cheap, too."  
A snort. "Picked them up and slipped them into your pocket for nothing at all, yeah. Can we get going already? I'm sick of-"  
"In a minute. Let me have a smoke first."

The redhead - easily a couple of heads taller than his partner and skinny in a way that was almost unreal - fished a packet of cigarettes out of the leather jacket he was wearing and picked one, lighting it and taking a long drag. Roxas frowned and tapped his arm quicker, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and glaring at the cigarette as though it had offended him mortally. Behind the glasses, he was sure that Axel would be watching him coolly, laughing at him in the deepest recesses of his mind (where, it should be noted, he couldn't be attacked with a pair of fists). The thought made him grit his teeth.  
"...Take them off. I can't take you seriously."  
The redhead snorted and shrugged, pushing the glasses off his and onto his forehead instead, where they slipped and struggled to stay in one place. He plucked the fag from his mouth and blew a cloud of smoke out away from the blonde, careful not to irritate him further. "Better?"

He was met with a grunt and a nod, his associate's mind obviously not able to stay in one place for too long. It was always amusing to see Roxas try and cope with the weather, whether he tried padding the cold out or let a small dainty umbrella swing from his wrist, but he wasn't able to cope with staying in one place for too long if he was sincerely uncomfortable. Most often he'd just bitch about every little thing that happened, but sometimes he got violent. Not that it happened more than twice every couple of months or so, but Axel had been on the receiving end of a damn good right hook a few times, and he didn't feel like being hit today.  
"Where're we going next?" he asked, trying to keep the blonde's mind on the job and off potentially painful scenarios. Besides, he was driving the two of them about and if he didn't know where they were going, he'd no doubt be in for even more hurt. "We've seen Jack, Jafar and Hook. Oh, and now we can cross off Hades."  
A crumpled piece of paper was lifted from the others' jeans, scanned briefly, and then returned to its resting place. "Sephiroth. Good luck convincing that one to give us money off the bat."  
"That's not fair, I don't see why I'm doing the driving and the talking," the redhead argued back, taking another puff on the cigarette. "What are you doing, asides from being a whiny bitch?"

He flinched a little as Roxas lifted his hands and clenched them into fists. "I'm persuading people to actually give us the cash if they don't give us something straight away, remember? We were told a little force might be necessary, after all. And I'm _really_ not the type that can charm people into doing stuff for me."  
He lowered his fists, and the redhead relaxed. "That's true. You can't flirt as well as I can - there's some things you still have to learn, dear heart. Ah-"  
Roxas punched the others' arm none-too-gently, looking utterly unconcerned as his partner dropped his cigarette and clutched at his arm dramatically. "If I hear you've been trying to stick your tongue down someone else's throat..."  
"Oh, woe is me," the other cried, raising one hand dramatically to his forehead. The shades slipped again and landed on the bridge of his nose before being pushed back up again. "Chill, Roxas, you know I wouldn't do that. I fear too much for my life."  
A light blush spread to the blonde's cheeks, and he changed his stance, moving one foot to grind the smouldering cigarette firmly between the floor and his shoe. "Don't make me out to be some kind of possessive lover, that's-"  
"-exactly what you are," Axel laughed, tousling the dark blonde spikes quickly before moving his hand back with a disgusted look on his face. "Eurgh, oh, what - Roxas, that's disgusting-"

The scowl returned to the shorter boy's face as he watched his partner wipe his hand on his trousers, and gingerly reached up to tug at one of the strands of hair that fell short of his brow. It was slick with sweat, and he grimaced as he ran his hand through the spikes, reducing them to a mess in less than an instant. He dried the moisture off his hand quickly, rubbing his fingers together and trying to rid himself of the stickiness that covered his entire body. "Can we just get going? I feel horrible standing around like this, especially now that you're done smoking. Let's just get this last one over and done with, then we can go back home and take a shower." He noted the others' eyebrows jump almost off the face they were sat on, and frowned more deeply. "_Not_ together. I just want to get clean."

The redhead shrugged, feigning disappointment, and strode the last few steps to the bike, swinging himself onto it with practised ease. The blonde sat behind him, holding him tightly and trying to find purchase on the leather jacket that his face was pressed into. Axel wrinkled his nose. "Try not to sweat all over the jacket, you hear me? God, you really are all sweaty and disgusting. Try not to fall off when we're on the motorway." The grip around his waist was adjusted slightly and the forehead moved against his back - no doubt Roxas was muttering death threats under his breath and wiping fresh sweat onto his jacket. Anymore teasing and he'd end up with a bruise in his ribs, though, so he started the engine and gunned them along, slowly at first, before gaining speed and taking them out of the clearing in front of the club and back to the main street, away from shady encounters and the thriving criminal underworld. A bump in the road sent Axel's garish sunglasses sliding down his face uncomfortably until they rested - somewhat awkwardly - on his nose again, but he didn't take his hand off the handlebar to set them straight, and instead concentrated on avoiding any more cracks in the road and the pedestrians that ran in front of him. A brief look at the petrol gauge told him that they wouldn't need to refuel for a short while, and that it was incredibly dusty - Roxas' arms were turning yellow with sand and would end up being just another thing for him to bitch about if they didn't finish up soon. He ignored the niggling voice in his head that told him he wouldn't hear the end of it until the boy clinging to his back was clean and asleep, and kept his eyes on the road as they drove along to the next town and the next person that owed them - that owed their Superior - money.


End file.
